Never Let It Go
by heartbeat7
Summary: Volunteers seem to be the new commonality in district 12. To keep the Mockingjay safe, Briar Lore volunteers herself for the third Quarter Quell, where half of the tributes are Victors. It's sure to be a slaughterhouse. But every rebellion needs a symbol. And change doesn't come without sacrifice.
1. Volunteer

"You could knock" Haymitch growls from his spot at the table. An array of bottles clutters the surface, leaving only enough space for his head to hit the table in a drunken slumber.

"Never thought of that" I reply sarcastically, pulling a chair up next to him, sitting on it backwards with my arms folded over the back. "Where's your rule book?"

"For God's sake, can't a man be left alone for a minute in his own home? First Peeta now you…"

"Haymitch!" the urgency in my voice gets him to stop. "Your rule book. Where is it?"

"What the hell are you blabbering about?" He reaches for one of the bottles but I push it out of his arm's reach. This gets his eyes to lock on mine. "The Hunger Games rule book" I say clear as I can. "Every mentor gets one. Where is yours?"

He rises off his chair, eyes still locked on mine, and reaches over my arm for the bottle. "If you're here to see if they can call the Victors into the Games again then you're out of luck sweetheart. It's the Quell. They can do whatever they want."

"I want to volunteer."

Haymitch sobers up faster than I've ever seen anyone in the Seam before. Even Jody Burkat didn't sober up quite as quick when she heard her boy Grey had been killed in the mines. "You want to _volunteer_." He spits out the word like it's poison. "For who?"

"Katniss."

He chuckles. "The volunteer gets a volunteer. Quite a little circle she's got going for her."

I ignore his comments. "Can I do it? Is there anything, anything at all, that they could pull to stop me?"

"Ugh" he sighs and rests his elbows on the table, head in his hands. I give him a moment as he rubs his temples. "What exactly," he says without looking up from the table, "Is your thinking behind volunteering for a Hunger Games where half the tributes are Victors?"

"You and I both know we need her." His head lifts at the "we" that's meant for so many more than two people at a dining table. I lean closer. "If she goes in she's going to be the first target the careers choose. She won't make it out again and we're going to get nowhere without her."

"What are you suggesting?" Haymitch laces his fingers beneath his chin.

"They're going to pull Katniss' name. Those three slips might as well all say her name. For all we know they might. Then I volunteer." I gesture to myself. "They never said a civilian couldn't volunteer for a Victor. I go in. Then they draw again from the Victors. Katniss stays and..." He gets the picture.

I sit up straighter. "So is there any way they can stop me?"

Haymitch closes his eyes for a second and then shakes his head, rubbing his chin in the process. "I don't know."

"Well where's your rule book?"

"I burned it" he says with dark eyes.

I shoot up from my chair, grabbing two fistfuls of my hair. "You _burned_ it? Why the hell would you do that?" I nearly shout before I remember I'm in the Victor's Village. There are cameras all over the place. "Haymitch…" The frustration shakes my voice.

"Sweetheart if you were in my position would you have done any different?"

"Well I wouldn't have _burned_ it!" I groan and spin around once, trying to recollect myself. "Do you remember any of it? Any rule?"

"It wouldn't matter even if I did" he says, rocking his head. "It's the Quell. They tend to throw the rules out the window during them."

Pressing my fingers to my temples, I close my eyes. "I have to try anyway." I drop my hands. "I'm going to do it anyway."

He nods solemnly. "Before you go through with this, are you sure you can handle it? Do you at all think you are going to get out of the Games alive?"

"No."

Now he nods in approval. "What's the plan?" and he gestures open armed. "I suppose you want me in the arena with you?"

"I volunteer." I point to myself. Then I point to him. "I'd appreciate you keeping Peeta out of the arena so Katniss isn't pulling her hair out…"

"You think she wouldn't worry about me?"

"… I don't know how Peeta feels about you. I don't know what he'll do if your name is called. If he volunteers, there's nothing you can do. Just do everything in your power to keep him alive. That's what I'll do. But I doubt he will, sorry Haymitch. If I get Katniss out he's not going to leave her side. I'm going to try to take out as many of them as I can while I'm in there."

"Those are Victors, Briar…"

"I never said I could do it. But I'm going to try. Maybe I'll get lucky."

"It's the Hunger Games. There isn't a scrap of luck to go around." With that he takes a decisive gulp from his bottle.

"Then explain how we have two Victors for the 74th Hunger Games." He locks eyes with me and then takes another gulp. "Don't let them know. I don't want to give them any false hope. Keep trying to think of any ways they could refute me so I'm ready to fight."

"Briar," Haymitch calls right when I'm at the door. I pause in my step. "Happy birthday."

The chilly breeze hits me worse than usual from being in such a warm home. I wonder if the vacant houses are kept as warm or only the ones that are occupied. For a moment, I let my mind toy with the idea of emerging a Victor and getting to live in one of those warm houses. I'd take some more people in with me, whether the Peacekeepers allowed it or not. But I guess it doesn't really matter. With one Victor and one civilian as tribute from each district I don't stand a chance in hell. Maybe if it was just civilians and I was smart I could taste the beginnings of victory, but not with Victors as competitors.

As I'm leaving the village, I hear a door crack open and slam shut in the wind. It's either one of the Everdeens or Mellarks. I don't turn around to see who.

I should get back to Thread's house, or mansion I should say. Technically I'm due in the kitchens for another five hours. But what's the point now? In a week I'll be gone. I'm dead either way and I'd rather not waste one of my last days of freedom at work. I don't make enough for Uncle Tommy and Joel to notice a difference anyway.

I keep my head low passing through the Seam. There are more and more Peacekeepers now. The deeper I get into the slum, the more violent they seem to be. One of the Peacekeepers grabs an older man and tosses him to the ground. I run. The man struggles to stand in the mud coated with coal dust. I lock my hands under his arms and pull him up with a little difficulty. "Are you alright?"

His beard has dirt caked in it but I don't think all of it is from the fall. "What are they looking for?" I press as the Peacekeeper calls another into his house.

The man says nothing, only stares as his home is violated by two men in white. His eyes are mournful but he doesn't cry.

Something cold like metal touches my palm. I close my hand around whatever he's passed me, making no acknowledgement of it. Then I casually slip my hand into my coat pocket and let it drop.

I wait with the man and a few others who have gathered, his neighbors I think, until the Peacekeepers leave. They make no apology and don't seem to have taken anything. We don't dare glare but all our eyes are hard as rock. "Come on" a girl a few years older than me says. She takes the man by the arm and leads him up the steps and into his house. The rest of us disperse.

I feel sick to my stomach.

I keep walking past our home. I keep walking until I'm up against the fence that traps us here like animals. It's on now. I can hear the hum of the electricity running through it. We're really trapped now.

There are a lot of things I should do. I should start training for one thing. I should at least give myself a chance to survive. If I could make it till the first night I think that would be a success. And I should be saying goodbye, indirectly though. I'm pretty sure Uncle Tommy and Joel would support me, they're as much a part of the rebellion as I am, but I don't want to burden them with this. It's best to just say goodbye after I've volunteered and I'm going.

I put my hands in my pockets. That's when I feel the cool metal thing again. I pull it out and trace it with my thumb. It's a mockingjay pin like the one Katniss had. This one's missing the pin though so it's just a trinket. The little golden bird is dark with coal dust. I rub my thumb over it a few times, trying to make it shine. Most of it comes off but the eyes stay dark. I place it back in my pocket and give the fence one last look. This is home. This rusty, electrified, chain fence is home.


	2. Ally

Every reaping day is somber. But today there is more silence than ever before. Three glass bowls sit on stage: one for girls, one for boy, one for Victors. Joel, who's two years older than me, stands with Uncle Tommy and the rest of District 12. I can feel their eyes on me but I can't turn back and nod reassuringly like I always do. The guilt is eating me up. I should have said something. I should have let them know. I could have given them more time to accept it.

It's odd standing in the crowd with all the other kids. Some of them are so afraid they visibly shake. I want to comfort them. I want to tell them that it's not going to be them, it's going to be me. I guess they'll know soon enough. Still, it's strange seeing the fear. I feel like an outsider even surrounded by all the others. I wonder what it's like to feel like an outsider for another reason; knowing you won't be picked. Knowing that it's going to be me should make me nervous. I should be shaking like a leaf. But I've known for a week. I've accepted my fate. I've trained a little, learned enough to survive the environment, if not the other tributes.

There are little things that I'm very aware of; the mass amount of Peacekeepers, Peeta squeezing Katniss' hand before stepping onto the stage, the hollow look in Katniss' eyes, Haymitch's gaze finding me in the crowd, my brothers and sisters in the rebellion and the anger rolling off of them in waves, the mockingjay hanging beneath my shirt. Effie steps up to the microphone. There's something somber about her as well. She doesn't have the same bubblegum pink hair as last time. She's chosen a dull purple-grey instead. It's no consolation but it's nice to have her sympathy. "Welcome… welcome to the 75th annual Hunger Games." Her voice has lost its usual cheeriness.

Haymitch and I lock eyes. He raises an eyebrow, asking if I'm still going through with this. I nod once, trying not to draw attention to myself. He doesn't respond but turns his head away to face Peeta. If Katniss' name is pulled, or _when_ it's pulled, he's going to hold him back. We don't need Peeta jumping in.

I move slowly and quietly towards the edge of the roped section. I'll need to jump out as soon as her name is called, just in case Peeta breaks Haymitch's hold. I inch behind my peers but they don't even notice. Neither do the Peacekeepers when I sneak in next to the rope. I run my hand along its coarse threads, trying not to think. Subconsciously, I place my hand over the mockingjay pin I've strung on a necklace and hidden under my shirt.

"First, the Victors." Effie reaches her hand into the bowl; only three slips lay on the bottom. My hand twitches, ready to shoot up. My whole spine tingles and my muscles tighten. I feel sick. One second and everything can go wrong.

"Katniss Everd…"

Haymitch tugs Peeta's arm roughly and causes him to stagger back, his mouth still open and ready to volunteer. "I volunteer!" I scream loud enough for _everyone_ to hear. Let there be no mistake.

And then it's dead silent.

I hop over the rope but meet instant resistance by the Peacekeepers. Two grab my shoulders and Romulus Thread leans down to my eye level. "What… did you say?"

"I volunteer" I sneer, breathing out hard, getting ready for a fight. "Where does it say a civilian can't volunteer for a Victor?" His hand balls into a fist. I know exactly what he wants to do. But he's hesitating. He can't. Not when this is being broadcasted. So I wait.

They hold me for a few minutes. They don't take their hands off me and I don't try to shake them off. They're making a call to the Game Maker if I had to guess. I'm sure they've cut broadcasting but Thread still doesn't make a move to use his fist. I know he would but he must think he's still being broadcast.

There are a lot of people watching me in the crowds. They don't say anything and I don't try to figure out their emotions. I'm too consumed with watching the stage. Effie stands by the microphone still, trying to hold some stability. Haymitch still has Peeta by the arm but his eyes are on me. Peeta is also watching me. But unlike Haymitch, his eyes are wide with surprise; his mouth is still hanging open. His head turns to Katniss but I'm too far away to hear what he says to her. She is frozen. She doesn't say a word. Whatever surprise had been on her face is gone now and she's a statue on stage. I can't tell if she's angry or in shock like she was last year.

One of the Peacekeepers runs over and nods his head once. Thread is not happy. He shoves me forward with a rough jab to my spine. I nearly trip but once I'm steady I walk confidently, or as confidently as I can, up to the stage. Thread and the other Peacekeepers leave me at the stairs, for which I'm thankful.

Katniss stands on my side of the stairs. When I pass her she whispers "thank you" just loud enough for me to hear. I pull her in close and wrap my arms around her back. "A lot changed while you were gone" I whisper back. If she understands what I meant then she doesn't let on.

Effie greets me at the stage with a hug, which I've never seen before in the history of the Games. "A volunteer!" she says, elated. "What is your name?"

"Briar Lore." No emotion.

"Well may the odds be ever in your favor." She squeezes my shoulder and I feel like she really means it. "Now… the Victors again." As I stand beside Effie, other members of the rebellion nod or smile in weak encouragement.

"Haymitch…"

_Thank God_.

"I volunteer."

Peeta steps forward. Effie's whole face drops. The reaction throughout District Twelve is the same. No one would have expected Peeta Mellark to volunteer to return to the Hunger Games, especially when Katniss is not. I catch Haymitch's gaze, begging him to do something. But there's nothing he can do. He shakes his head once and glares at the blonde boy as he takes his place beside me.

"Ladies and gentlemen… your tributes for the 75th annual Hunger Games."

Three fingers on each right hand are raised. And then the doors behind us slam open and a crowd of Peacekeepers surround us. I panic, my eyes searching out for Uncle Tommy. I can't find him or Joel in the crowd. "I have to say goodbye" I say. But I'm in no way inclined to ask them for anything. I've made the Peacekeepers and the Hunger Games in general look foolish with my volunteering. I'm lucky they haven't killed me yet.

Peeta is calmer but that doesn't stop him from pushing one of the Peacekeepers away when he tries to force Peeta into the train. He shakes his arm free and walks up the steps unaccompanied. They release me as well because I've calmed down considerably. I haven't said another word, accepting that I'll die without saying goodbye to the only family I have. Haymitch follows on not a minute later.

As soon as the door closes, Haymitch turns on Peeta. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Peeta sits down on the chair beside mine and replies without hesitation, "You'll be a much better mentor than Katniss or I".

Haymitch covers his face with his hands and pulls at his hair. "So you _volunteer_ yourself?" Peeta says nothing. Haymitch is furious and points a stern finger at him. There's something he wants to say but he doesn't. Instead he pivots and grabs a shot glass. Then, as a second thought, he switches the glass for a bottle and leaves the two of us alone.

"Thank you" Peeta says as soon as Haymitch is out of ear shot.

I don't know what to say to him. I shake my head. I'm a little angry that he did something so stupid. He doesn't realize it but he's sentenced me to death now. I have to switch my whole mindset now. I have to think defensively now. It'll be easier but that's not something I wanted to do.

I shake my head and just have to laugh. "Well this changes things."

Peeta smiles. "You had a plan?"

"Kind of." I don't want to say too much because this is a Capital train. Who knows who's watching.

"Thank you again. Katniss…"

"It's alright" I say and smile. "And you're welcome. But you don't need to thank me." For a moment we sit in silence. There's food on the table but I don't feel like eating. I try not to think about Joel and Uncle Tommy.

Haymitch comes back into the room. He's not stumbling yet but I can smell the alcohol from three feet away. He glares at Peeta, says nothing to me, and drops a CD in front of the two of us. Then he storms off, grumbling about stupid volunteers. I lift the CD and turn it in my hands. It shines like nothing I've ever seen before. It's so clean. This whole train is. There's no coal dust to be seen. I couldn't feel more alien here.

"That's has all the other tributes on it." I nod and hand it to Peeta to put in the player behind us. The wall ahead of us suddenly lights up with the seal of the Capital. And then the reapings begin. The first two I pay very close attention to. Cashmere and Rith from District One both look ready to kill. In fact, they seem almost eager to be back in the arena. Cashmere is gorgeous but there's a fire beneath her skin. She's going to be a threat. Rith is equally beautiful. He has dark hair and a chiseled face. He's older though. Maybe in his upper thirties. This would make any other tribute less of a threat but the Careers train hard. I'm sure he's still a killing machine. I try to memorize their faces.

Enobaria from District Two is going to be a problem. I remember hearing about her. She ripped another tribute's throat out with her teeth. Now, she has her teeth sharpened to do just that again. I hope someone else takes her out in the initial bloodbath but that doesn't seem likely.

After the first two districts I don't pay as much attention. A few of the tributes really stick out to me. One of which is Finnick from District Four. He's handsome. That's what first caught my eye. But then I noticed the look of relief when _his_ name was called. It all clicks. He's protecting someone too. It may be foolish but my brain switches from seeing him as a threat to an ally. I think about mentioning this to Peeta but he's focused and there's no telling if Finnick will survive long enough to become an ally. There's plenty of time still for him to show his true colors.

Sig from Nine also catches my eye. And not in a good way. There's something about her. She has dark hair and dark eyes and olive skin. She seems furious, almost threatening the other Victors to volunteer with her eyes. I shiver and unfortunately, Peeta notices. "You…?"

I shake my head and keep my eyes on the reaping. I want to memorize this face. Thankfully, Peeta lets it go.

There's a woman from District Eleven that also catches my eye. Her name is Pear. She has dark skin and a mess of tiny curls falling down to her shoulders. She looks just like Rue from last year's Games if she had been twenty years older. Peeta beside me fidgets. He must recognize Rue in Pear as well. Before she gets on stage, a little boy, maybe three races forward. She looks about ready to cry. This must be her son. She scoops him up and kisses him before she's pulled up to the stage.

Thankfully our reaping starts a minute after that. I hated watching her tearful eyes. I couldn't imagine leaving my son. And I couldn't imagine seeing my mom reaped.

I'm very curious as to what they showed of our reaping. I'm waiting for them to show Katniss' name being called but they don't. They've cut and pieced together a whole new reaping. Both Peeta and I lean closer in shock. Now they play Haymitch's name being called first and Peeta volunteering. There's a somewhat awkward transition where the whole of us waiting to be reaped are shown. And then suddenly I'm volunteering. Without a name being called. It looks like I volunteered as soon as Peeta did.

"Of course" Peeta laughs dryly. "Of course they would edit the biggest display of defiance in the reapings." He shakes his head in anger. "I'm sorry. They shouldn't have done this. People should know what you did."

"If they're smart they can figure it out" I say. When he doesn't seem to understand I tell him to play ours again. "Now pause it" I say when he steps up to Effie. "There" I say. I stand and touch the very side of the screen where you can see a sliver of my arm and dress because I'm already on stage. He resumes the reaping and I have him pause it again. "Here too. When I'm walking up to the stage you can see that you aren't by the microphone. You're still back by Haymitch."

Peeta nods. "It's still…"

A train operator passes through and the conversation immediately drops.

"So… allies?"

I nod and shake his outstretched hand. His skin is softer than mine. His palm has callouses but they are from work, not from labor and cold. His hand is warm around mine and firm with confidence that shines from him every moment. "Absolutely."


	3. Outsider

I can't sleep on these air trains. True to Effie's word, I can hardly tell that we are moving, but I don't feel safe on the train. It is Capital owned and I'm very positive I am on a hit list of the Capital. I feel like the moment I fall asleep I'm going to be swept away and killed.

With a yawn I get up and start to explore the train. I pass by Peeta's room but don't bother going in. I don't want to wake him. He needs his sleep. We both do. Haymitch apparently snores. Very loudly in fact. I think about asking Effie if the doors can lock to our rooms but I don't really want to explain to her what my fears are.

The dining area where Peeta and I spent most of the day is cleared of all silverware and nearly all the decorations in preparation for breakfast tomorrow. It's a scary room when it's cleared off all the frills. The tables are cold and everything just seems too big.

I keep moving towards the back of the train. I pass a room where I can hear talking. I think it's the control room but when I walk past the door is promptly slammed shut. I shake my head. I wasn't even eavesdropping.

At the very, very back of the train the room is a wall of windows with a long couch that wraps around in a half circle around the walls. The couch is much more comfortable than my bed was. I curl up and tuck my feet under my butt to keep them warm. We are moving too fast for me to really see much of anything. But through the glass-paneled ceiling I can see where the sky meets the mountains that we are passing through and all the stars above. Seeing those same stars makes me feel a little more at ease. I lay my head back and find myself actually able to sleep here.

When I wake up the stars are gone and it looks like the sun has only been up for a little while. I make my way back to my room unseen and look through the dresser for any clothes as mine are no longer on the floor where I dropped them last night in exchange for pajamas. There is one outfit laid out nice and neat in the drawer. They have provided we with a long lavender skirt and a shirt that, to my agitation, doesn't cover the entirety of my stomach. I feel silly wearing these kinds of clothes. They are so impractical. I know it's just because the Capital wants me to look nice. But I don't want to be the doll they are trying to make me out to be. So I don't tuck my necklace away but let it hang proud. And I pull my hair up into a lopsided, sleepy ponytail. There's makeup placed on the surface but I walk right past. They can paint me up later. I'm still me for now.

I'm not the first one at breakfast. Effie, not surprisingly, is already up and waiting for someone to join her at the table. She smiles at me and pats the seat next to her enthusiastically. I smile back. I saw the way she worried over Katniss, Peeta as well. She may be from the Capital but she's not one of them. Not as much at least.

"Are you hungry?"

Well of course I am. But I can't seem to put something on my plate. At home we'd be having some kind of grainy mush or bread if we were lucky. Here all the food has color, colors I didn't even know food could have. I don't even know what any of this is. I don't want to be rude but I don't even know how to eat this. Or if all of this is edible or just decoration.

Peeta walking into the room with a slightly hung-over Haymitch saves me for the moment. Peeta drops Haymitch at one end of the table and sits across from me. I watch to see what he picks up. He grabs something purple. He can feel my eyes on him and catches me watching his every move. "You should try this one" he says and points at some kind of pastry. It has chocolate chips and chocolate syrup over it. "I make those at the bakery. I think you'll like it."

He's right. It's fantastic. It's so much sweeter than anything I've ever had before. Sugar is a very special treat. I think I've only had it twice in my life. The pastry is warm and oozing with chocolate. I want to dig through the plates of food for more but I don't. I don't want to get too spoiled. In a week I won't be eating anything like this.

Haymitch grumbles and snatches some other kind of pastry and a weird fruit that I would think is poisonous with it's strange colors but I guess it isn't. He eats like a starving man. That's something we have in common. Peeta is a little more reserved. Effie eats like a mouse.

"We'll be arriving in an hour" she announces once we have finished. "Until then I'll leave the three of you to talk strategy."

Once she's out of the room, I turn to Haymitch. "We have a strategy?" I know _we_ have a strategy, keep Peeta alive, but I kind of figured Peeta and I would just go in and play everything by ear.

Haymitch point at the two of us, still chomping on the fruit. Some of the juice gets on his cheek and he wipes it away with his sleeve. "You two are allies?"

Peeta nods with me.

After a minute of frustrating silence, Haymitch puts his elbows on the table and leans forward. "The first few minutes are going to be a bloodbath. Probably worse than the other years. Most of the Victors are going to turn on their home tributes. They are going to be easy targets and all the Victors already know each other. That puts the _both_ of you at a huge disadvantage."

"So we need to make friends with other Victors" Peeta picks up.

Haymitch nods. "If you can get one other Victor to be your ally then that will help you a lot. Briar, you especially need to avoid the cornucopia. You step foot in that direction and they will cut you down. I don't care what you see in there. You won't get it before one of them and if you do you won't have it for very long. It's not worth it. Just get out with Peeta."

I share a glance with Peeta. He nods. That's the advice he followed last year. I guess it worked out for him. "Ok" I say.

Haymitch grunts and readjusts on his chair. He's just as uncomfortable as I am. Peeta shifts a little as well. "Alright what are you two good at? We all know a little about Peeta but what about you Briar? What strengths do you have."

"I'm quiet" I say immediately. "I know how to move around without making a sound. And I guess I'm pretty good with knives. I work a lot with them in the kitchens and when I had down time I used to fool around." Peeta arches an eyebrow. I figure I might as well share. "I hate Thread. I hate working for him. So I used to take a stump from the firewood and pretend it was his face…"

Haymitch smirks but Peeta has this dark look to his face. I feel a little guilty for admitting that but more so I'm confused. Could he actually like Thread? Even after what he did to Gale? And how he hit Katniss? No, there's some other reason for that look.

"What?" I ask when I can't stand it any longer.

He shakes his head and takes a moment to choose his words. "When you volunteered, I saw the way he grabbed you. And I noticed that scar yesterday." My hand subconsciously moves to my left temple. "He did that didn't he? He hit you?"

I grit my teeth for a moment and then push out breath slowly. "I have a lot of reasons to hate that man. That's just one of them."

"So why do you work for him?"

"Do we have to talk about this now?" I half laugh at the horrible timing.

Haymitch takes this moment to cough. "If you're done…" Peeta doesn't say anything. "Then what we need to do is focus on training. What do you know about making shelter buttercup?"

I shake my head. "Next to nothing."

"Then that's where you two need to go in training. How about hunting?"

I shrug this time. "I'm decent. I'm nowhere near Katniss' skill" I warn Peeta. He nods, probably expecting that. "But I know a lot about what is edible and what isn't."

"Good. Then learn how to make shelter and focus the rest of the time showing off. All the Victors know what they are doing. Let them see, especially you Briar, that you aren't easy pickings. It might buy you some time. And don't waste your time with the other tributes. They aren't going to be any help to you."

Effie pops back into the dining car and announces that we are here. The train slows and we make our way to the door. The crowd of Capital people greeting us is overwhelming. I'm nearly blinded by all their clothing. I feel like an alien here. As we walk down the platform and just across to our new home for the week, I avoid their hands that they stretch out. I instinctively curl my arms into my chest and walk quickly. Peeta behind me rests a hand on my shoulder in comfort and urges me forward with a slight push. Once we are inside and in the elevator I finally breathe. "Is it always that horrible?" I ask.

Peeta shakes his head. "No. From now on they are only in the audience."

I nod. "Good. That was awful."

Effie takes us to something called an elevator. It's a little glass room that we all crowd into. I don't understand at first. Then, Effie pushes a button with the number 12 on it and the little room is shooting up towards the ceiling. I grip the glass fiercely, looking for anything to grab onto as we rocket into the ceiling. No one else seems to be panicking though. Can't they see…? We stop at the very top, just inches from the ceiling. "That was weird" I murmur to myself.

The doors open up to a huge room. Everything is marble and grand. I feel dirty just stepping in the room. The only thing that looks comfortable is the large black sofa. I think I'll be spending my down time there and away from the intimidating glass table. "This is your room!" Effie is beaming. "You're district 12 so you get the penthouse!"

_It almost makes up for the fact that I'm going to die in a week_.

The elevator opens again, letting in a crowd of clearly Capital people. "And these are your designers." Three of them rush forward and greet Peeta. The other three approach me slower. There are two that flank one tall, dark skinned man. One of them shakes her head at me and clucks. I'm not sure what to think of that.

Peeta gets whisked away and so do I. They take me to an equally large bedroom that I assume is mine. It's ridiculous. The room is larger than my home. The bed itself is bigger than our kitchen. Who could ever _need_ a bed so large?

Once the door is closed the leader smiles and hugs me. "Thank you" he says. "I'm Cinna."

"Briar" I say. Cinna doesn't look anything like the other two. They are dressed ridiculously. I try to picture myself doing any kind of work in an outfit like that but can't even imagine it with all the pointed ends and odd angles. Cinna is dressed more simply. He is still obviously Capital, but not flamboyant like the rest.

He tells me his assistants' names but I don't really hear them. I'm focused on the disapproving looks they give me. I wonder if they did the same to Katniss.

Cinna tells me to strip and I stare at him warily. Is this normal for the Hunger Games? Is this normal anywhere? "What?" I ask.

He smiles at me like I'm a toddler. His assistants don't have the same kind of patience. They practically tear my clothes off of me. "What the fu…!"

"It's alright. We've seen it all before" Cinna _attempts_ to comfort me. I keep my hands covering myself nonetheless. He chuckles a little and snaps at his assistant. The girl runs off to a closet and returns with a dress that she carries as if she's holding a cloud.

I could very well put it on myself. But the assistants pull it over my head and zip me up despite my protests of having my own hands to do this. Cinna takes my chin in his hands as the other two flush out the dress. "You have very high cheekbones" he notes with a smile.

"Thanks?"

He smiles. "You're beautiful" he says more definitively. I can only smile. It's a little weird to think the first person outside my family to ever call me beautiful is my designer for the Hunger Games. I like Cinna just a little bit more now.

I don't even get a chance to see the dress that Cinna has designed because the three of them sit me down in a chair to start messing with my hair and makeup. "Such long hair" the girl comments. "Like wheat." I can't tell if she's insulting me or complimenting me so I don't say anything in return.

I didn't know that getting your hair done hurts. But I guess it must to get it to do all those crazy things I saw in the Capital. The two assistants tug and twist my hair so much I think one of these times they're going to my pull my whole head off. Cinna distracts me slightly with smiles and compliments as he works on my makeup. "Am I going to recognize myself?" I tease as he picks up yet another colored powder.

He smiles. "I don't cover. I embellish."

I roll my eyes but am sure to smile to let him know I'm only kidding. I wouldn't want him to turn on me as well and start tugging on my eyelashes.

After I've felt like I've been sitting in that chair for days, Cinna finally takes a step back and my hair is left alone. "One more thing" he says, reading my mind. From behind his back, he conjures my Mockingjay necklace. I hadn't even realized they had taken it off of me. Cinna presses his lips to it and I can feel the two behind me tense just slightly. It's as if he's pulled out a snake and kissed it. "There" he says once it's around my neck and hanging proudly. "Go look."

I do recognize myself. I'm happy enough with that. I didn't want to look in the mirror and see some Capital girl staring back at me. My hair is pulled up and back and left to hang down my back in long curls, some kind of black ribbon laced in and curled the same. My eyes look like smoke. And the dress is gorgeous. It is black with rough layers at the top. There are less and less layers the further down the dress goes until there is only one. The color swirls into an indescribable blue at the bottom. The dress is cut in ways to create actual wisps and curls. Just like "smoke".

Cinna nods. "Smoke before the fire."

"It's beautiful" I say, truly meaning every word.

"Let's hope it's as powerful as the girl wearing it."


	4. Finnick Odair

I don't see Peeta again until we are heading downstairs to load into the chariots. We meet in the elevator and do a double take on each other. Peeta is a new kind of handsome now. His outfit has the same theme as mine. He has a rough looking black shirt that covers no more than his shoulders and black pants that lose layers like my dress until only one wraps around his ankles in blue smoke. His hair is styled back clean. "You should wear makeup more often" I tease. "It really brings out your eyes."

"Ha ha" he says but I can see the smile in his eyes.

Cinna gently nudges the two of us closer together until our hips touch. "Do you see?" I follow his gaze down and smile at the ingeniousness. Where trails of smoke lead off my dress, they continue on Peeta's pants and vice versa. Before I can complement Cinna, he's giving us instructions. "You two are…?"

"Allies" Peeta and I say simultaneously.

Cinna nods. "Then show it. Show them that Victors and tributes can be alliances. Don't smile. You don't have to pretend anymore."

Maybe Peeta understands what that means better than I do. I glance over and Peeta nods with a grim face. Any sign of a smile is gone now. I copy that face. It isn't too difficult. I just have to remember where I am.

Our chariot of course is at the back of the line. "Don't look at the others" Peeta leans over and whispers as we walk by chariot after chariot. I follow his instructions and keep my face blank and my eyes forward.

I'm a lot shorter than the other girls that I see out of the corner of my eye. They all have these ridiculous shoes on that raise their feet off the ground. Mine are flat to the cobblestone path in light slippers. I thank Cinna mentally because if I was wearing those kinds of shoes I'd be kissing the dirt right now. But how the hell did he know I didn't have a chance to walk in those? I'm pretty sure Katniss did. Somehow. She was taller than Peeta then, a lot taller. She must have been wearing them. I'm a little more impressed with her.

"So what do we do?" I ask Peeta. He gives me a hand and helps boost me onto the chariot.

"Nothing. Normally I'd say smile and wave but not this time. Look unemotional or angry if anything."

"Should be easy enough."

We start moving and Peeta bumps his hand into mine. I lock my fingers with his without thought. He rubs his thumb over my hand when we enter the coliseum and I'm deafened by a roar of Capital citizens. They are all a sea of unnatural colors and odd fashion.

I zone out through the opening ceremony. The whole world goes blurry as I focus on my thoughts. But everything rushes back to me when I catch sight of President Snow. I read him like a book. He's angry. He contains himself very well as he steps up to the podium to speak. He's collected but behind that is a brewing fury. His eyes meet mine and stay there for longer than any of the other glances he gives. I defied him. He'll kill me. I'm surprised he hasn't yet. He's plotting something. There's a reason why I'm still alive right now. It would have been so easy to kill me before I was in the eyes of everyone. One missing district 12 girl wouldn't have made a difference. He needs me for something. And he needs me to die.

Despite the fear I feel coursing through my veins by staring back at Snow and knowing he has the power to torture and kill everyone I've ever cared about, I don't look away until he does. It's an old trick I learned from Joel when we ran into a stray coyote. You look it in the eyes until it looks away. You assert your dominance. You let it know you aren't afraid.

On our way back out of the coliseum I reflect on just how stupid this opening ceremony is. They get us all dressed up and decorated just for us to ride out on silly chariots, listen to Snow speak, and then ride away again. What is the point? So much money is wasted in our hour in the public's eye. And for what? So the Capital people can pay even more money to catch a glimpse of us? They'll see plenty of us in the Games. Why do they even bother with this ceremony? But I guess that's how things are done in the Capital: wastefully and without much purpose.

All I want to do is sleep. I'm exhausted from not getting any rest on the air train. I feel like a rock. When our chariot stops, Peeta hops down and offers me a hand. I take it, grateful because my legs ache from standing so long. He tells me to wait when he catches sight of Haymitch pestering a Capital worker about not having enough alcohol. He's already staggering. I wonder if Peeta thinks too highly of Haymitch. He said he volunteered because Haymitch would be a better mentor than he or Katniss. Was Haymitch sober last time and that's why Peeta thinks this? Because I don't see Haymitch helping us all that much with so much alcohol in his system.

I lean up against the chariot, trying to see uninterested. Out of the corner of my eye I watch the other tributes. The Victors walk around with confidence; they go where they want and say what they want. While the others hang back and do as they are told. Which is exactly what I'm doing right now.

I push off of the chariot and look for something to busy myself with. Anything but staying put by the chariot and seeming timid. Someone grabs my elbow. I spin on them, grabbing their bicep in return. I feel the man flex in response. "You know, most girls would be dying to be in your position right now. But I've never met a girl so forward."

I let go with a roll of my eyes. This guy is clearly a Victor. He radiates confidence. He's blonde and has the blue eyes of most District Four people. He's gorgeous. He's probably the most beautiful man I've ever seen. "Go ahead. Take your time" he says and laces his hand behind his head.

"You're so full of yourself."

He shrugs with a cheeky smile. "I'm Finnick Odair. And what is your lovely name?"

"Briar Lore" I say, trying not to smile. There's something about him though that wipes the dull expression right off my face. It's hard to be mad at a guy with so much positive energy.

He nods. "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"Thank you."

"So you volunteered" he says, slinging an arm around my shoulders casually. "That takes guts. I'm surprised they let you do that."

"So am I" I admit. I then curse myself for saying so. He's another tribute. I shouldn't be telling him anything. He's going to try to kill me and Peeta. It's strange thinking that the arm around my shoulders so friendly make be the arm that ends my life. I don't know how to feel. I feel like I've befriended my killer. I feel like an idiot.

"You think you stand a better chance than Katniss in the arena?"

"I think," and I drop his arm from my shoulders, "That I'll kill you if you cross my path."

He holds up his hands. "Hey now. I don't want to ruffle your feathers. I was thinking of being allies in fact."

"Oh really?" I say skeptically. It's easy to claim to be allies. He wants me to let my guard down. His good looks almost made me before. He thinks he can win my full trust just by throwing around the word ally. "What would you get out of being my ally?"

"The prettiest girl by my side."

I laugh. "Cute. But I've got my own agenda."

Suddenly, Finnick steps closer so we are chest to chest. He places his arm around my lower back and holds me close. I don't dare breathe. I have no idea what he's up to. He wouldn't snap my neck now, would he?

"Yeah" he whispers. "Protecting loverboy."

I keep my reaction calm but I'm panicking on the inside. How the hell could he possibly know that? Is it that obvious? If so, protecting Peeta is going to be so much harder. I don't stand a chance if all the Victors attack me because they know I'm guarding Peeta.

"Haymitch" he says in response. I narrow my eyes at him in question. "You really should consider an alliance. I can help."

I don't say what I'm thinking: that I'd never trust anyone other than myself to keep Peeta alive in the arena. And thankfully I don't have to say anything else because Peeta returns with a flustered Effie and a slurring Haymitch. Peeta is staring at Finnick. He steps forward and I duck out of Finnick's arms to join our group. Peeta doesn't turn away even after I've walked past him. But after a second where Haymitch nearly collapses, Peeta turns and trails our group as we head back to our temporary home.

"What was that about?" he finally asks when we are in the elevator.

"He wants an alliance" I say truthfully, leaving out the part that is still running through my head and is sure to keep me from sleeping tonight.

"What do you think about that?"

I take a glance at Haymitch. I'm not sure why. Maybe to offer advice or to affirm that he has spoken with Finnick and he is true to his word, but he's too much of a mess right now to be of any help. "I don't know yet. It'd be nice to have another ally out there. But he's a Victor. And he's been mentoring for a while. He knows exactly what to say. I don't know…"

Peeta nods.

"Did anyone strike you as a good ally?"

He shakes his head without glancing my way. "No. The tributes are a mess and there's no guarantee that their Victors aren't going to kill them right away. A lot of the Victors are really out of it, too. They seem angry at the Capital but I don't think that's going to stop them in the arena. And I'm the youngest Victor and the only reason I survived was because of Katniss. They'd be stupid to pair up with me so I'd be suspicious of anyone who would want to."

_They'd be really stupid to pair up with us: a young Victor who barely made it the first time and a tribute who's never even been in the Hunger Games_. So maybe Finnick is telling the truth? He could be a Career if he wanted to. It'd be dumb to ally with us unless he really is a part of the rebellion.

Peeta hauls Haymitch to his room with slight difficulty. Effie is trying to ignore the fact that Peeta and I are entering the arena in a few days with pointless comments and advice. "I think you should ally with Finnick Odair. And he's blonde as well, keeping up your alliance's trademark." According to Effie, he's a blonde so he's in.

I could say something mean but there's no reason to hurt her. She's just coping differently as all. "I don't know" I say, hoping that will appease her for now. I sneak away to my room, needing some time alone and a few breaths where there are no eyes on me.

I had planned on only taking a few minutes to myself to change. But even after I'm changed, the solace of my room is too great to pass up and I decide instead to get some sleep. Tomorrow is the first day of training after all. And that can only go wonderfully.


	5. Another Ally

The Hunger Games are weird. It's an odd mixture of glamor and brutality. The whole point is to put us in some arena where we are going to end up killing each other in pretty gruesome ways. But some of this horror is shrouded by frills and diamonds. I'm more surprised than anything when Cinna and the team greet me in the morning. I figured I wouldn't be seeing them again until tomorrow for the interviews. But apparently we get dolled up for training as well. That seems ridiculous to me. Why do I need to look presentable, actually beyond presentable, when I'm training to survive and kill? This whole thing is a ball of irony and surreptitiousness.

I look better going to train than I did on Reaping Day. Cinna has me in the typical black spandex one piece of a training uniform. There's a big fat 12 on my shoulder and back. My hair I somehow convinced the stylists to allow in a simple ponytail, saying that's how it will be for the Games and that's how I need to train. They protested but one look from Cinna and they shut up. I like him. He may be a designer and he may be feeding into this whole Hunger Games mess, but I think he sees what I see.

I couldn't fight them on the makeup though. I tried but apparently my less than perfect sleep is causing circles to form under my eyes. I actually appreciate them hiding this. I don't need the others to know that I'm having trouble sleeping, although I'd think that's a commonality among all the tributes. But I don't need them to know I'm stressed. I need to look confident and collected.

I wait for Peeta in the dining room. There's a tray with food but all of it looks too sugary to be any good for me. I grab some kind of bread thing that's in a circle. It's plain enough not to make me feel sick like most of the food here does.

Haymitch comes strolling in before Peeta. I slam my food down on the table and march over. "Morning sweeth…"

I use all my strength to drag him over to the wall and press my forearm into his throat. His eyes open fully and I have his attention. "You think this is a joke?" I get close so that only he can hear as I growl in his ear. "We're keeping him alive and you need to be _sober_ to do that."

Haymitch holds up his hands. "I was socializing. You know, gaining you sponsors. But if you'd rather…"

I push him back when he tries to move over to the table. I stare him down for a long while, giving each eye an individual glare. "The next time I catch you with alcohol I'm setting you on fire. Got it?"

"Got it" he says and makes his thumb and pointer finger into an _o_.

Peeta joins us not a moment after. Neither of us is all that hungry so we head down to the training center early. Effie wishes us luck as the elevator doors close. There is just enough time to witness her roll her eyes at Haymitch before we're moving down at an uncomfortable speed.

"So what's this like?" I ask.

"There's different stations" Peeta explains. "There's some for weapons, hand to hand combat, edible plants, fire building, shelter building. Pretty much anything is there. You just have to choose the right ones to go to."

I nod. "Are we sticking together?"

"For the most part. We'll have to split for a little while so we can show off. We don't want the others to think we are completely reliant on each other. The trick to this whole thing is not to let the others know what you are thinking. Don't make yourself seem too aggressive or too timid. You want them to avoid you in the arena. If you're too good they'll take you on as a challenge."

"Got it."

By the time we get down to the training area all the other tributes are more or less there. It's painfully obvious who is a Victor and who is not. I wonder if the Victors can pick me out that easily. I catch Finnick's eye and he winks at me.

Peeta and I stick together the whole morning. We spend a great deal of time learning how to make a shelter and I practice climbing with him. I'm surprised that I'm actually pretty decent at climbing. All those childhood years of climbing up on the roof and climbing trees with Joel must be paying off.

Sometime late we end up splitting up. I head over to the hunting station to try and refine my skills while Peeta heads off to the weights. The man at the hunting station focuses mostly on traps and hunting without a weapon. I'm glad because there's a very good chance I'm not going to have one. The Cornucopia is going to be more of a blood bath than usual. I'll be lucky to get _anything_. Let alone a weapon.

I'm working on shallow water traps when I feel someone walk up and squat beside me.

"Honey if you wanted fishing lessons you only had to ask."

"Prove to me you're not going to stab me in the back once we get in the arena" I say, eyes downcast and focusing on the task at hand.

Finnick drops something down into the water next to my hand. It shimmers in the shallow waves. I pick it up nonchalantly but I recognize the feeling of it almost immediately. It's a Mockingjay. It's different than the ones in District Twelve. This one is made entirely of twisted fishing wire and netting. A sure fire icon of District Four. He couldn't have gotten his hands on this stuff here in the capital. This is from District Four, from before he knew he'd be back in the Games.

I drop the trap I'm working on and place the Mockingjay back into Finnick's palm. "I talked to Haymitch. He thinks I should trust you" I say, not letting him know my own feelings. I have to admit that I nearly trust him now but there is still the issue that this is the Hunger Games, a death match. "I will so long as you don't give me a reason not to."

Finnick smirks. "Deal" he says.

I can't help but smile as well. "So what's your special talent?"

He stands and holds his arm out for me. I take it and haul myself up. "Come with and I'll show you."

We head over to the weapons. I expected Finnick to let go of my hand, I try to shake out of his grip, but he's determined to let all the other tributes see us walking hand in hand. He only lets me go to grab a trident on a rack.

"That's not stereotypical at all" I snide.

He just clicks his tongue at me and winks. I'm aware of many others watching Finnick as he attacks a dummy, stabbing it a multitude of times, rolling over its shoulder to get it in the back and swiping out its feet. I'm impressed but even more so when he holds the trident like a spear and launches it across the room to land an inch from the toe of a non-Victor tribute. He chuckles at the boy's doe eyes.

When he steps back over to me he flexes his muscles for show and takes a bow. "Just wonderful" I say and fake applaud.

"How about you beautiful?"

I roll my eyes. Being allies is going to be interesting with this one.

"I'm thinking knives."

"Well then, by all means…" He points me over to a shelf that has more kinds of knives than I could imagine. I just kind of figured a knife is a knife. I pick the ones that look most like the ones I work with in the kitchen; shorter, sleek, and sharp.

There's a target maybe thirty feet away. I step up onto the platform and hold the knife at the ready. I blink and whip it across the way. It sticks but nowhere near the center. _Practice_. Finnick agrees with me. "Try again" he encourages.

I close my eyes and pretend that I'm back in Thread's kitchen, pretending his head is the target. When I open my eyes and pitch the knife it hits the center and is implanted up to the handle. The third lands just a hair over. And number four joins the others in a row.

I try not to pay attention to the few stares I get as I pluck the knives out of the target with some difficulty. Maybe only two people were watching me. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. The only person that I actually make eye contact with is Finnick.

"I'll stay on your good side" he says with a grin.


End file.
